Oh clasp me, sweet, whilst thou art mine,
And do not take my tears amiss;
For tears must flow to wash away

A thought that shows so stern as this:
Forgive, if somewhile I forget,
In woe to come, the present bliss.
As frighted Proserpine let fall
Her flowers at the sight of Dis,
Ev'n so the dark and bright will kiss.

The sunniest things throw sternest shade,

And there is ev'n a happiness

That makes the heart afraid!

Now let us with a spell invoke

The full-orb'd moon to grieve our eyes;
Not bright, not bright, but, with a cloud
Lapp'd all about her, let her rise
All pale and dim, as if from rest
The ghost of the late buried sun
Had crept into the skies.

The Moon! she is the source of sighs,
The very face to make us sad;

If but to think in other times
The same calm quiet look she had,
As if the world held nothing base,
Of vile and mean, of fierce and bad;
The same fair light that shone in streams,
The fairy lamp that charm'd the lad;
For so it is, with spent delights

She taunts men's brains, and makes them mad.

All things are touch'd with Melancholy,
Born of the secret soul's mistrust,

To feel her fair ethereal wings.

Weigh'd down with vile degraded dust;
Even the bright extremes of joy

Bring on conclusions of disgust,

Like the sweet blossoms of the May,
Whose fragrance ends in must.
Oh give her, then, her tribute just,
Her sighs and tears, and musings holy !
There is no music in the life

That sounds with idiot laughter solely;
There's not a string attuned to mirth,
But has its chord in Melancholy.'

Among Mr Hood's Poems' there are several Sonnets; but we can scarcely say that he has overcome the proverbial difficulty

which attaches to this species of composition. The thought is not, in general, wrought out with that clearness of expression, and simple development, which is essential to the full effect of the Sonnet-giving to the poem, even with all its elaborate construction, an appearance of natural growth. The following appears to us the most favourable specimen we can select :

'FALSE POETS AND TRUE.

Look how the lark soars upward and is gone,
Turning a spirit as he nears the sky!

His voice is heard, but body there is none
To fix the vague excursions of the eye.
So, poets' songs are with us, though they die
Obscured, and hid by death's oblivious shroud,
And Earth inherits the rich melody,

Like raining music from the morning cloud.
Yet, few there be who pipe so sweet and loud
Their voices reach us through the lapse of space :

The noisy day is deafen'd by a crowd

Of undistinguish'd birds, a twittering race;
But only lark and nightingale forlorn

Fill up the silences of night and morn.'

We will conclude our brief survey of the contents of these volumes of which we have said enough to show our sincere respect for the genius, and the liberal and generous spirit and character of the author's mind-with the following specimen of his gayer manner. It is not penned in that style of riotous mirth in which he sometimes indulges: it is a playful trifle,—written with his usual grace, good-humour, and kindliness of feeling.

'I

< ROTTERDAM.

gaze upon a city

A city new and strange,-
Down many a watery vista
My fancy takes a range;
From side to side I saunter,
And wonder where I am;
And can you be in England,
And I at Rotterdam!

Before me lie dark waters
In broad canals and deep,
Whereon the silver moonbeams
Sleep, restless in their sleep;
A sort of vulgar Venice
Reminds me where I am;
Yes, yes, you are in England,
And I'm at Rotterdam.

Tall houses with quaint gables,
Where frequent windows shine,
And quays that lead to bridges,
And trees in formal line,
And masts of spicy vessels
From western Surinam,
All tell me you're in England,
But I'm in Rotterdam.

Those sailors, how outlandish
The face and form of each!
They deal in foreign gestures,
And use a foreign speech;
A tongue not learn'd near Isis,
Or studied by the Cam,
Declares that you're in England,
And I'm at Rotterdam.

And now across a market
My doubtful way I trace,

Where stands a solemn statue,
The Genius of the place;
And to the great Erasmus
I offer my salaam ;

Who tells me you're in England,
But I'm at Rotterdam.

The coffee-room is open-
I mingle in its crowd,-
The dominos are noisy-
The hookahs raise a cloud;
The flavour now of Fearon's
That mingles with my dram,
Reminds me you're in England,
And I'm at Rotterdam.

Then here it goes, a bumper-
The toast it shall be mine,
In schiedam, or in sherry,
Tokay, or hock of Rhine;
It well deserves the brightest,
Where sunbeam ever swam—
"The Girl I love in England"
I drink at Rotterdam !'

ART. V.-Egyptens Stelle in der Weltgeschichte. (Egypt restored to her Place in Universal History.) By C. C. J. BUNSEN. Three volumes. 8vo. Hamburg: 1845.*

HERODOTUS, the earliest and most competent of our classical authorities upon Egypt, describes that country and its inhabitants as differing in the most striking manner-in climate, soil, character, customs, and institutions-from all other regions or races of men of whom he possessed any knowledge. Every subsequent enquiry has tended to bear out the substantial truth of this statement,-in as far at least as regards the world for which Herodotus wrote; for the advance of geographical research has shown certain of the peculiarities on which he dwells to be more or less common to various other nations.

The broadest general feature of this singularity was their stern exclusive jealousy of national feeling their boundless veneration for every thing Egyptian, their hatred and contempt for every thing foreign. While there are, probably, few countries of the ancient world but have borrowed largely in the progress of their own culture from Egypt, we find no trace of the Egyptians having been indebted for a single custom or branch of knowledge to any of their neighbours. The persons and habits of strangers were to them an abomination; their visits, probably, as a general rule, prohibited. Foreign travel, on their own part, seems to have been still more severely discountenanced. The legends of Egyptian maritime colonies, if at all authentic, are to be understood of other than the indigenous race. With abundant evidence of the extent and success of their foreign expeditions, we hear of no Egyptian Province permanently established beyond their own immediate frontier. Even thirst of glory and martial enterprise, like every other taste or talent, became subservient to the one grand object of upholding the integrity of the state; by weakening its rivals, or augmenting at their expense, by exaction of tribute, its wealth and internal

resources.

This principle of unblemished integrity imparts a certain grandeur to the national character of the Egyptians, superior to what any other state can boast in ancient, or even perhaps in modern times. We must here, however, guard against confound

* Many of our readers will be glad to be informed that an English Translation of this work, incorporating some additional information, both historical and antiquarian, obtained since the publication of the original Edition, and executed under the superintendence of M. Bunsen himself, is soon to appear.

ing, as frequently happens, the terms Nation and Empire. The former denotes a distinct homogeneous race of men, united by the ties of common origin, language, and manners. The word Empire, on the other hand, applies to any large body of our species living under the same system, voluntary or compulsory, of law and government, however radically distinct in blood or habits. By reference to this definition, Rome, the greatest of all Empires, scarcely ever possessed a palpable existence as a Nation: even her own early fables hardly claim for her a germ of pure national integrity. The same is more or less the case with all the great Empires of antiquity: the individuality of the dominant tribe was obliterated by the extension of its sway. The Egyptians, on the other hand, while advancing, in the above sense, but slender claim to imperial honours, present, as a nation, the greatest, perhaps the only, phenomenon of its class in universal history. We here see a single people of pure unmixed race, and limited both as to numbers and territory, preserving, during thousands of years, the most rigid unity of character, custom, and social polity. We see them maintaining, during that long period, an indomitable spirit of political independence, often in the midst of the severest disasters and discouragements. We see them consolidating a power, which, while in its very essence incompatible with such an extension of frontier as formed the boast of their rivals, rendered them more than a match for the mightiest among them. We see them, by the force of this principle, rearing with unexampled rapidity, from their own unaided resources, a fabric of civilization, complete in itself, and surpassing, in many essential points of excellence, what the united efforts of far more highly gifted races have since been able to accomplish.

Another remarkable characteristic, which, if not exclusively proper to the Egyptians, appears at least in them in the most organic and systematic form, is the disposition, after a certain advance in culture, to stop short and remain stationary. On the cause of this curious anomaly we have no room to speculate; of its existence there can be no doubt; and as little of its having formed, strange as it may appear, another element of their national greatness. It is a trite rule, largely confirmed by the experience of history, that nations, like individuals, have their stages of growth, maturity, and decay; and that the attainment of any high climax of excellence is but the forerunner of a retrograde course of decline. An extraordinary duration of national prosperity, it will follow, can only be secured through some exception to this rule, or rather suspension of its operation,-by fixing, or stereotyping, as it were, a certain point of advancement as a ne plus ultra. This point, it results from the prin